early morning restlessness,
the type that begins with a slow boil of the blood;
asleep still, it starts with my heart and pumps and pushes that pulsating push through to my feet.
my mind opens before my eyes,
and i emerge within thought, already drifting,
i am awakened by and within that space,
ever small and confining,
ever soft and sinking,
between loss and shining reclamation.
now facing east, i carry them with me.
the east the east the east,
i always find myself before it,
or rather, it before me.
even as i softly, or not so much so, turn from it ever so slightly,
somehow i revolve as i evolve,
and find my face to the rising sun.
beedahbun.
over and over and over again,
i am haunted by home,
the looming light of dawn hanging above me like spirits.
i seem to be living the tradition you embody, dear father,
even when i am convinced that although it is of me,
it is not surrounding me,
i find that i have fooled myself again.
i can see now that you have been calling me home,
not through a demand of voice,
or the stiff silence of ignor-ance,
but perhaps prayer,
maybe. could be. i now do see,
through the vessels of your beating heart,
you released these wishes, hopes,
divine intentions,
to the swirling unknown rhythm of the sounding skies and beyond,
and now,
they’ve been sent back.
only this time to me, for me, before me,
and i promise that i yearn for this reveal,
and reunion.
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
ellievsbear
amandla
